


While You Were Gone

by Nellied



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fake Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellied/pseuds/Nellied
Summary: Six months ago, Jake Peralta was killed in the line of duty, in a routine bust gone horribly wrong.Now he's back, but somehow that doesn't fix anything.(Or, five times Jake's squad gave him hell for faking his death, and one time they didn't.)
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 42
Kudos: 218





	1. Captain Holt

"So, while I understand that this has been disruptive, I can assure you that Peralta's contribution was vital in catching Baines. You should be proud."

O'Grady droned on, rattling off details about paperwork, transfer processes, classified records, but Jake's attention was on Holt.

He'd expected the usual stoic treatment, or perhaps, a small, childish part of his brain supplied, the Captain would smile, and clap him on the shoulder, and would say something along the lines of "It's good to have you back, son," and Jake would be glowing for the rest of the day.

What he hadn't expected was this. The Captain looked stoic on the outside, sure. But Jake knew him, and he knew the signs: the tightly clenched jaw, the exaggerated enunciation, the more-rigid-than-usual posture. It was clear as day. The Captain was _pissed_.

O'Grady obviously didn't know Holt as well, and seemed disconcerted by the lack of emotional outbursts. He hastily wrapped up, handing Captain Holt his card.

"I'm sure you've got a lot of catching up to do, so I'll leave you to it. Feel free to contact me with any queries."

With that he gave Captain Holt a respectful nod and turned briskly to leave.

After the door shut, silence fell. Jake held his breath, then felt silly and stopped. The Captain was just giving him a look, like he'd come in and kicked Cheddar, or something.

Jake gulped nervously.

"Surprise?" he tried, and hated himself as his voice cracked halfway through.

The silence that followed was more withering than anything Holt could have said.

Jake tried again.

"Sir, I know-"

Holt cut him off with a gesture.

"Save it, Peralta. I don't want to hear it."

Jake sat awkwardly, unsure what to do. After a few horrible seconds, the Captain spoke.

"I just have one question for you. I understand why you felt you had to take the mission. But did you have to do it that way?"

Jake blinked. That was it? 

"I had to set up a fake identity, sir, without the slightest possibility of it being linked back to me, and to do that, Jake Peralta had to be out of the picture. So yeah, I kinda did."

Holt shook his head.

"I understand that, Peralta. What I do not understand is why you kept us all out of the loop."

 _Ah_.

Before Jake could even reply to that, Captain Holt continued.

"And don't go telling me it was the only way. There's precedent for telling the squad these things. You could have told us. So why didn't you?"

Jake grimaced. Truth be told, he'd realized too late that it was an option. O'Grady said before the mission that he couldn't tell anyone, and, like a fool, he'd just accepted it. He only realized his mistake a few weeks later, and by then he was past the point of no return. 

"O'Grady told me-"

"O'Grady's a trained FBI operative, I would take anything he says with a grain of salt. He's a professional liar." 

Jake sagged.

"I didn't think-"

"Damn right, you didn't think. We thought you were dead, and for what? So you could run round playing spies? Was that it?"

Holt raised his eyebrows, but Jake held his tongue. He had a feeling a smart-ass answer wouldn't help his case right now, but he suspected the honest answer might be just as bad.

Finally, after a few tense seconds, the Captain let out a breath, and fixed Jake with an unreadable stare.

"I know you meant well, and I know you wouldn't have done it like you did if you'd thought there was any other way. But there _was_ another way." Holt shook his head. "It was badly done, Peralta."

And damn, was that an emotion he heard in the Captain's voice? For the first time, he got the impression that the Captain wasnt _just_ pissed.

"I'm sorry, I should have-"

Holt shook his head.

"You know, that's not even why I'm angry."

Jake frowned.

"I'm angry you didn't have faith in us. I'm angry that Adrian Pimento, who'd only known us for a week, thought to warn us when he faked his death, and you didn't. I'm angry you didn't trust your squad to have your back. And yes, you _didn't think_. But if you could fake your death and just _not_ _think_ about your team like that, then that tells me that maybe you didn't value your team all that much to begin with. Thoughtlessness isn't an excuse, Peralta."

Jake felt like somebody had punched him in the stomach.

He opened his mouth to reply, apologize, anything, but no sound came out.

Instead, he felt himself tearing up. He swallowed, hoping the tears would go away, but no, he'd reached the point where there were enough tears that they wouldn't just go away. Even if he stopped, Holt was going to notice.

 _Well this is mortifying_ , he thought, feeling the first tear, hot on his cheek, and wondering whether you could die of embarrassment. 

The only good thing was that Holt seemed just as horrified as Jake. The Captain was staring, open-mouthed, and looked entirely at a loss for what to do.

A few seconds went by, horribly uncomfortable, and then the Captain stood, walking round his desk and, approaching Jake like you'd approach a feral cat, laid a hand on his shoulder, patting it stiffly, and Jake was still crying, _goddamnit_ , but now he was laughing too, and the resulting snort was gross and snotty, and the Captain recoiled physically from it, but tried to keep patting Jake' shoulder, and heaven help him, Jake had missed this awkwardness.

"I know you meant no harm, Peralta. And for the record, I blame O'Grady for this mess. You were thoughtless, Peralta, but O'Grady was cruel. There's a line."

Jake sniffled - _urgh, how embarrassing_ \- but the tears seemed to have stopped. Holt gave his shoulder one last pat before letting go.

"I am disappointed that you didn't tell us about this," the Captain carried on, "but I understand. We've all had that case that pushed us too far. That's what your team is for. When you've got a case that's making you reckless, pushing you into bad decisions, your team's there to pull you back in. So next time you're planning something like this, tell us, okay?"

Jake nodded mutely, and the Captain seemed to soften, placing his hand back on Jake's shoulder with a comforting nod.

"I'm glad you're back, Jake. Losing you was hard on all of us."

For a second the Captain glanced out the window at the squad as they filed in for the morning briefing. Something or somebody over near Jake's usual desk seemed to catch his eye, and he hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but wasn't quite sure how.

Then he was back on his side of the desk quickly outlining some of the practical details of getting Jake reinstated. He ran an eye over the report O'Grady had left, grumbled about a typo - _tsk, tsk, sloppy work_ \- and placed it neatly in his to-do tray, and Jake, for the first time since coming back, felt a sense of normality wash over him.

He breathed a silent sigh of relief.

_One down, five to go._


	2. Gina

As it turned out, coming back from the dead was mostly paperwork, so Jake's next port of call, after a predictably tearful morning briefing, was Gina. 

"So you need to file this with HR, but only _after_ you reopen your bank account, and you can only do that once you've talked to Social Security about getting your death certificate cancelled."

Jake nodded absent-mindedly, not really listening as Gina explained the forms she was handing him. How hard could it be to get un-deaded?

He was kind of disappointed, to be honest. Last time he'd checked, coming back from the dead was a pretty big deal. Like, found-a-religion-round-it big. But apparently all _he_ got for it was paperwork.

It was boring. Sure, the morning briefing had been very dramatic. Everybody cried, there were lots of hugs and Amy was so shocked she forgot how to blink for a hot moment. But now everyone was back to work, and it was all so lowkey. There was a strange atmosphere too, not quite cold, but definitely odd.

"Jake? Jake!"

He must have zoned out for a second.

"Uh, yeah, what were you saying again?"

Gina huffed.

"Look, if you're not gonna take this seriously, I'll keep the car."

_Wait, what?_

Jake's confusion must have shown. Gina rolled her eyes theatrically.

"Your will? You left me your car, numbnuts. I assume you want it back?"

_Huh_. So he had. He'd written that into his will _years_ ago. 

"Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot that was a thing."

Gina's face twisted.

"You forgot that was a thing," she echoed, and there was a bitterness there that Jake hadn't expected.

Jake frowned.

"Yeah, I forgot. No big deal."

Gina actually laughed at that.

"No big deal. No big deal? You left me your car, Jake. They read your will, and you left me your car, and I had to go pick it up a week later, and it took me an hour to drive it home because I kept crying and then I had to stop because I couldn't see the road."

Jake winced. He'd never thought about the practicalities of it like that.

"Gina, I didn't realize. I -" 

She interrupted him, suddenly angry.

"What didn't you realize? You didn't realize that you being dead would have consequences?"

Jake bit his lip. 

"I knew there'd be consequences, I guess they just didn't seem so real back then."

Gina laughed again.

"Jake, you were _dead_. I'm not sure you get that. Terry came back shaking, and the Captain took him through to his office to debrief him, and then he called us all through and told us you'd been killed in the line of duty, only we already knew, because why else would Terry have come back in that state?"

Jake felt a lump forming in his throat as Gina continued.

"We all got sent home, only I couldn't go home, because it was your apartment, with all your massage chairs, so I just went straight to Shaw's and got blind drunk and had to call Rosa to come pick me up at 3am."

Jake didn't want to hear any more, but somehow cutting Gina off would be worse, so instead he just stared grimly at the form in his hand as she carried on.

"I barely remember the funeral, it's just a shitty blur. You got full honors. Captain Holt gave a speech. I hugged your mom a lot. And then we were back at work, and I had to help Amy clear out your desk, because she was a real mess - still is, really, possibly more than any of us. We all had to make sure Boyle actually ate something most days. The first time someone tried to get rid of your _disgusting_ soda from the break room fridge, Terry almost bit their head off. On the two-month anniversary I caught Rosa having a panic attack in the evidence locker because she'd caught Captain Holt talking about you on the phone to Kevin. We _mourned_ you, Jake. So maybe it didn't feel real to you, but it sure as hell felt real to all of us."

Gina looked ready to cry, and Jake felt a pit of guilt open up in his stomach as he looked at her.

"Gina, I never-"

"What, you never thought we'd take it so bad? Cause I've got news for you, Jake. Your best friend dies, it sucks. And either you knew that and you did it anyway, or you didn't care enough about our friendship to even think about what it'd be like for us. Either way, dick move, Jake. Dick move."

And what could Jake even say to that. It _had_ been a dick move, and suddenly "But I caught the bad guy" didn't seem like such a great excuse.

He looked properly at Gina. There was a tiredness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. _I did that_ , Jake realized in a flash.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, because what could Jake even say? He'd known his friends would grieve, of course, but somehow it had always been an abstract idea, and now he had to deal with the reality of it, the bags under Gina's eyes and the weight Boyle had lost and the way Amy kept staring at him when she thought he wasn't looking, like he was going to disappear again.

For a moment, he didn't know what to say to say to Gina, and then she saved him by wrapping him in a hug so tight it almost took the air from his lungs.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair, "I'm so, so sorry."

They stayed like that for a good minute, Gina clinging onto Jake like her life depended on it, Jake apologizing under his breath. 

When Gina pulled back, she was giving him a look, and he knew that look, had known it for years, and like that, Jake's unspoken question was answered.

_Yeah, of course I forgive you, dumbass._

Jake nodded, grateful, and Gina handed him another piece of paperwork.

"Now this one's actually important, cause if you don't file it, you might get accused of life insurance fraud."

_Kill me now_ , Jake would have thought, if it weren't so damn ironic.


	3. Terry

Jake's next stop was Terry, who was supposed to be catching him up on everything he'd missed. 

This time, Jake decided to lead with the apology.

"- so yeah, I screwed up, big time. I didn't think, and that was selfish. I know I can't change anything that happened, but believe me, if I could redo it all, handle it differently, I would."

Jake caught Terry's eye and trailed off at the look the sergeant was giving him. 

He was about to say something just to break the silence, when Terry laughed. It was a mirthless laugh, and Jake wasn't sure he liked it.

"Sarge?" Jake prompted.

Terry just shook his head.

"You know, I said almost exactly the same thing."

Jake frowned and Terry elaborated.

"At the inquiry."

_Wait, the inquiry?_

Jake's confusion must have shown. Terry took pity on him.

"You died on my watch, Jake, on a routine bust. That sort of stuff generally raises questions."

_Oh. Shit._

"Terry, I didn't know-"

"Come on, man. Whoever left that bomb knew every single detail of the bust, down to the minute. We were the only two officers with that information. Best case scenario, one of us accidentally let something slip. Worst case scenario, I'm dirty. Either way, not a good look."

Jake frowned.

"But you had nothing to do with it. Surely they couldn't-"

"Oh, no," Terry shook his head in agreement. "They couldn't prove anything. Doesn't mean they didn't try. Captain Holt shut down the worst of it, when he found out, but it was bad enough in the end."

"The worst of it?" Jake wasn't sure he wanted to know what that meant, but he asked anyway. 

"They wanted to press charges, at first. Aiding and abetting."

_Aiding and abetting?_ But that would mean...

"They thought you tried to _murder_ me?"

Terry shrugged.

"The evidence didn't exactly add up, some of the details seemed to point to an inside job," - _well, they weren't wrong_ , Jake thought wryly - "plus I practically confessed."

Jake's brain stalled.

"You _what_ now?"

Terry had the decency to look abashed as he explained.

"You have to remember, I wasn't in a great place. I gave you the order to go in, and I guess I blamed myself for that. Kept thinking about what I could have done differently, kept just seeing everyone's faces, seeing _Amy's_ face when Captain Holt told them all, how they looked at me. Must have come off pretty guilty."

There was a sharp edge to Terry's voice that Jake hated. 

"Sarge, you know none of that was your fault."

Terry snorted, incredulous.

"You think I'm still hung up on that? No, Jake. It took a long time, and a whole lot of mandatory therapy, but I got past that. Plus, the squad needed me around more than they needed me in prison or suspended. So I decided to stick around."

Jake shook his head, confused.

"Then why..." 

He trailed off awkwardly, not sure how to phrase the question. Terry understood, though.

"Why am I still mad?"

Jake grimaced, but yeah, that's exactly what he'd wanted to know. 

"I'm not mad at you, if that's what you want to hear," Terry said eventually. "I'm mad _because_ of you, but I'm not mad at you."

Jake scrunched his brow up, not quite sure he understood, and Terry sighed.

"Look, I was messed up for ages. I hit a slump. Every time I went out, I just kept thinking, what if it's me this time? I've got the girls, I've got Sharon -"

Terry cut himself off, tight-lipped, and Jake caught him stealing a glance at the picture on his desk. 

"So I went back on desk duty, but that was almost worse, because then I had to send Amy out, or Rosa, or Boyle, and then the guilt was back and I couldn't do it, and I started making bad calls left right and centre. The squad needed me, but I was useless."

Jake shook his head silently.

"And now you're back, so it _should_ all be fine. Only it's not, because I'm still scared, all the time. So yeah. Terry's mad at himself, not at you."

Jake narrowed his eyes.

"Why not?"

Terry wrinkled his eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"Why aren't you mad at me? I'd be mad at me. You should totally, 100% be mad at me at this point."

Terry stared. 

"Jake-"

"No, you should be mad. What I did messed you up, and that's on me, not you."

"Just so we're clear, you... want me to be mad at you?"

Jake took a deep breath, wondering if he was going to regret what he was about to say.

"Not really? But I'd totally understand if you were mad. And if it helps, then feel free to. Be mad, that is. Dropping that on you was a thoughtless, shitty thing to do and you have every right to be pissed. I mean, I landed you in a _murder investigation_."

They sat without speaking for a few horribly long seconds. Jake studied Terry' face. He couldn't tell what the Sergeant was thinking, but he could see various emotions battling for dominance.

Finally, Terry shook his head.

"Jake, that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

Jake let out a breath be didn't know he was holding. 

"Thank God, because for the record I am _very_ afraid of Angry Terry-"

"Oh, I didn't say I wouldn't take you up on the offer,' Terry cut him off, with a slight smirk. "Because you know what? You're right. I have every right to be pissed, because you, Jake Peralta, are an idiotic, inconsiderate _ass_."

Silence fell and Jake felt weirdly relieved. A few seconds passed until Terry spoke again.

"Now let's get you caught up. Ass or not, you need to know about the new online system."

There was no real weight behind the insult. Jake grinned as Terry began explaining how the precinct's new evidence logging software worked. He'd missed this.


	4. Boyle

After getting caught up on all the minor changes around the place, Jake was assigned a few low-level cases of his own, and set about skim reading the files.

Quickly spotting a name he thought sounded familiar, he decided to check it out.

He switched his computer on, entering his username, then his password. It bleeped at him. _Username not recognized._

Huh. His _username_ wasn't recognized? But that was ridiculous, he knew his username. Unless they'd deleted his account or something -

Oh, wait. Yeah. That's literally what they'd have done.

Jake frowned. Now he thought about it, he did seem to remember Gina saying something about getting his account back. Said it might take a day or so?

_Damn it._

Well, he just wanted to run a check on one name, Jake figured, scanning the bullpen for somebody to ask. Rosa was out. Terry was talking to Holt. Amy ... okay, he just didn't want to ask Amy right now. She was staring pretty intensely at the evidence board anyway, so he probably shouldn't distract her from whatever she was thinking about.

Finally his eyes landed on Boyle, working at the desk next to Jake and Amy's. Perfect.

"Boyle?"

Boyle's head shot up, and for a split second he looked like just a deer in the headlights.

Jake frowned.

"You okay there? You look like you've just seen a-" 

Oh. Right. Yeah. Maybe not appropriate.

"Dinosaur. You look like you've just seen a dinosaur," Jake backtracked. "Because that's definitely a figure of speech people use when other people look shocked."

Boyle just nodded, clearly distracted.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. Must have gotten used to the empty desk, that's all. What was it you wanted?"

There was something odd about it, but Jake decided to deal with the issue at hand first.

"Could you run a database check on Robert Carnegie? I'd do it, but my account got deleted, since... well, you know."

Boyle nodded slightly too rapidly.

"Sure thing, sure thing, Jakey."

He turned to his computer to run the search. Jake noticed his hands shaking as he typed.

"Mmm, says here that he's got a prior arrest for aggravated assault, that sound familiar?"

It did, but Jake was more concerned by the way Boyle's voice broke in the middle of the sentence. He decided enough was enough.

"Yeah, I need to go check something through in evidence. You mind coming with me?"

Boyle looked puzzled but nodded vigorously, standing up to follow Jake. 

As soon as they were alone in evidence, Jake spun round.

"Okay, I didn't actually need anything from here, I just wanted a chance to talk. About... all this," Jake finished, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Boyle, who was visibly trembling.

He looked confused.

"I don't know what you-"

"Oh, come on, ever since I sat down you've been acting weird. And not, like, normal Boyle-weird. _Weird_ weird. Jumpy. Nervous. Classic wide-eyed junkie stare. _Please_ tell me you haven't picked up a cocaine habit since I last saw you."

Boyle shook his head vehemently.

"No, no, no, no I'm just-" 

And then he stopped, his sentence cut abruptly short, and bit his lip.

The two of them stood there in an increasingly heavy, awful silence.

"Boyle? We good?" Jake tried in a horrible faux-cheerful tone of voice that he immediately regretted.

The silence continued and Jake felt a chill run down his spine. If the twitchiness had been weird, this was something else.

"Okay, you're freaking me out now, please say something."

For a few more terrible, protracted seconds, Boyle stayed stock still, as if he hadn't even heard Jake. Then Boyle was practically collapsing into Jake's arms, clinging onto him like a limpet. Jake was suddenly, frighteningly aware just how much weight the smaller man had lost.

They stood like that for a while. Jake thought it was funny, half a year ago he'd have done anything to get out of one of Boyle's 10-minute hugs, but now he was willing to stand there for as long as it took. Because the alternative - twitchy, fragile, edge-of-a-breakdown Boyle? _Unacceptable_.

In the end it was only two minutes or so before Boyle pulled back, snotty-nosed and sniffling.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, dejected. "I just... it's been really rough, Jake."

Jake nodded and bit his lip, desperately wishing he could turn back time.

Boyle took a shaky breath, then spoke, quietly but more calmly.

"I wrote it all up, afterwards. All the incident reports, the witness statements, everything."

Jake frowned. That shouldn't have been Boyle's job.

Boyle saw the frown and shrugged.

"I volunteered. Internal Affairs were already sniffing round, and they sent their guy to take statements, make the final call. And it just felt wrong, you know? The guy didn't know the squad. So I offered to handle it."

Oh. Jake's frown deepened. Wouldn't that mean...

"It was mostly forensics, in the end. Trying to explain why there wasn't a body."

Jake winced, his fears confirmed. Forensics reports were never fun at the best of time. He imagined Boyle poring over them, reading up on the temperatures required to completely destroy human remains, and felt sick. 

Boyle shook his head.

"I thought I was losing it, Jake. Nothing added up, and I kept thinking what if you were alive. I thought I was going mad."

Those last words were barely a whisper.

"Hey," Jake tried, resting a hand on Boyle's shoulder, "Look, I'm right here. You were right. You weren't going mad."

Boyle nodded.

"I know, Jake." 

And then he was silent again for ten whole agonizing seconds, while Jake floundered for something to say to break the silence.

Finally Boyle broke it by bursting into tears.

"God, I'm just so glad you're back," he choked out, pulling Jake back into a hug.

Jake hugged him back, as tightly as he dared. 

He'd half expected Boyle to be angry. He wasn't sure that this wasn't worse.

"I'm here," he murmured, giving Boyle an extra squeeze and wishing there was more he could do.

When Boyle pulled back, he was smiling, just about. It was a lopsided, shaky smile, but a smile nonetheless.

 _Small steps_ , Jake thought. _Small steps._


	5. Rosa

"What the hell, Peralta?"

Jake barely had time to register that _hey, Rosa's back from her sting_ , before he found himself being slammed bodily into the breakroom wall hard enough to wind him.

"Not cool, Rosa! Not cool!" he wheezed, once he could speak again. "I only just stopped being dead, do you want to kill me for realsies this time?"

The glare he got by way of response was murderous, even by Rosa's standards.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I swear, no more joking about being dead, cross my heart and hope to live" he tried, only for the glare to somehow intensify as her hand gripped his shoulder even tighter.

"Ow, ow, ow, okay, okay, Rosa, Rosa, _Rosa_!"

She dug her fingers in viciously before speaking to him again, low and emphatic and strangely calm.

"I'll repeat myself once more: _what the hell, Peralta?_ " 

Jake looked her in the eye. There was the usual Diaz anger, of course. Jake had learned to see past that years ago. But underneath it all was something else, deadly as a loaded gun.

Okay, no more joking.

"I'm sorry," he said, as sincerely as he could. "I am truly sorry. I should have trusted you-"

"Nope," Rosa cut him off. "Try again."

Jake frowned, confused.

"I'm sorry I didn't think about what you-"

"Nope," Rosa shook her head.

"I'm sorry you had to-"

"Nope." 

For a second Rosa's eyes seemed to flick to the window separating the breakroom and the bullpen.

Jake paused for a moment before trying again, more tentatively.

"I'm sorry for everything I put the squad through?"

Rosa pursed her lips.

"Better, but nope."

Jake frowned again.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell - "

Rosa snorted and Jake fell silent.

She stared at him a few seconds more, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully, before shaking her head.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

_Don't get what?_

Rosa sighed, folding her arms in a way that would have had Jake running for the hills, were she not blocking the breakroom's only exit.

"I know what you said to Amy."

 _Ah_.

Jake flailed for something to say. _I didn't know I was about to go undercover. We were both super drunk. I tried to find her before it all went down._ But somehow they all sounded like excuses - and perhaps they were, he thought bitterly.

But Rosa was still glaring daggers at him, waiting for him to explain himself, he needed to say something, anything -

"How did you even know about that?"

He knew as soon as he said it that it was the wrong tack to take.

"How do I know about that?" Rosa's eyebrows shot towards the ceiling as she unfolded her arms, "That's what you took from this conversation?"

Jake swallowed. Rosa's hands were awfully close to his neck now, far too close for comfort, well within throttling range, really-

And then she turned away from him, shaking her head.

"Amy told me. _Some_ of us tell each other things round here."

Okay, Jake probably deserved that.

He closed his eyes just for a second, wondering how to get things back under control when Rosa spoke again, more quiet, but somehow no less terrifying.

"Three days after you died, she turned up on my doorstep. Didn't say a word, just walked in, collapsed on my couch and cried for half an hour. Didn't leave for three weeks. Still stays over sometimes. We talk."

Jake frowned and Rosa rolled her eyes.

"Her apartment was real near where you got yourself blown to kingdom come, you do the math."

Oh.

 _Oh_.

"Shit, Rosa, I didn't-" Jake caught himself. _I didn't think. But isn't that the problem?_

"Shit," he tailed off lamely, wincing.

Rosa sized him up for a good ten seconds before rolling her eyes theatrically.

"Ugh, I can't even be properly mad at you right now. It'd be like kicking Arlo. Just... I'm not letting you off the hook. Talk to her, okay?"

Jake swallowed.

"I was going to, I-"

"No," Rosa shook her head. "You weren't."

He frowned, and Rosa sighed.

"You've been ignoring her since this morning. It's not exactly subtle."

Jake's frown deepened. He hadn't been... only he kind of _had_. He hadn't spoken to her at all, since the briefing, and now he thought about it, he really wasn't sure why.

"I didn't-"

But Rosa was giving him a look, so he closed his mouth again. He would go talk to Amy. Rosa was right. Only...

"What do I say, Rosa?"

She shot him a pitying look.

"You get on your knees. And you grovel."

Jake nodded, but then a thought occurred to him, and he swallowed again

"What if she hates me?"

Rosa looked unimpressed, and Jake interrupted her before she could speak.

"I know, I know. Should have thought of that _before_ I got drunk and told her I had feelings for her."

To his surprise, Rosa shook her head.

"I was going to say, she won't. Hate you, that is. She couldn't."

Jake shook his head.

"I know she's got the badass self-control thing down, Rosa. But what I did sucked. Captain Holt's angry. Gina's angry. Terry's angry. Boyle's not angry, but he should be. And you-"

"I'm not angry," Rosa interrupted, cutting Jake off.

 _You're gripping the back of that chair awful tight, for somebody who isn't angry_ , Jake pointedly didn't say to her. Instead, the sound that escaped his lips was something more like "ynuhgrywm?"

Rosa looked at him, then slumped.

"Okay, I am angry, because that's kind of my whole thing. But I'm not angry with you. And neither is Amy. Not really. And that's not because she's got some sort of miraculous self-control. It's because you're _you_. You're Jake Peralta, and part of that, like it or not, is that you're always gonna go rushing into stupid shit like this without thinking it through. And being friends with you means accepting that, just like it means accepting Amy's weirdo pantsuit obsession. Or that I'm... not exactly the most forthcoming of people. Emotionally speaking. And maybe I should be, sometimes."

The last few words almost seemed to physically hurt Rosa. Jake tried not to look too surprised, but obviously failed. Rosa rolled her eyes yet again.

"I had a while to think about these things, okay. Realized I maybe don't tell people how much I appreciate them enough. Which is fine, until they're not around. And then it sucks. So yeah. I'm not mad, because I think you did a good thing. You did it stupidly, but Baines was a bad guy, and somebody needed to stop him, and you stepped up, because that's what you do."

It was possibly the most non-work-related words he'd Rosa say at once, ever.

"And Amy-"

"Won't hate you either. God knows I don't, and I'm like the third least-attracted to you in the precinct. It'll be fine."

She turned away from Jake and he stood there for a second or two, at a loss for what to do.

"Rosa, I-"

"Don't you dare."

Jake opened his mouth, but Rosa cut him off.

"Don't you dare make this into a moment. I don't do moments. I have never had a moment, and I am not about to start now."

Jake thought for a moment.

"Would it make you feel better if I said something dumb and potentially insensitive about Die Hard? Then you could hit me and we could go back to never talking about feelings ever."

Rosa looked thoughtful for a second, before nodding.

"Cool," Jake said, "because John McClane might have Died Hard, but you know who Died Harder? This guy!" He grinned, gesturing at himself with two thumbs. As jokes went, it was weak, but it was enough. Rosa punched him in the arm, not at all gently, and he knew they were back to normal.

"Oww, _Rosa_."

"Shoulda been quicker," she snapped back, already turning back towards the bullpen. As she reached the door, she stopped and turned back towards Jake, softening just momentarily.

"Good to have you back," she muttered. "Now go talk to Amy."

Jake nodded as Rosa turned to leave. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him

"Wait, third-least attracted to me? Rosa, who-"

But she was already gone.


	6. Amy

Jake meant to talk to Amy properly, he really did.

He knew it wasn't fair to keep her waiting.

He knew that she wanted to talk to him too. She had that fidgetty kid-in-class-who-knows-the-answer-but-hasn't-been-called-on look. It was a very specific look that he knew well from literally every seminar they'd taken together ever. 

He also knew, logically, at least, that she probably wasn't mad. Sure, everything inside him instinctively told him that she would hate him. But Rosa had assured him that she wouldn't, and he trusted Rosa's judgement more than his own, at the moment.

And, more than any of that, he just wanted to talk to Amy. He'd missed her general... Amy-ness. Even just looking at her pen pot on the other side of their shared desk, with its elaborate color-coding and its "Don't you dare, Peralta!" sticky-note still attached, reminded him of just how much he'd missed his partner.

So why, as the clock ticked towards five, had he still not managed to speak to her?

As he spotted Amy heading towards her desk, files in hand, he finally decided to bite the bullet and do it.

"Hey, Santiago? You free right now?"

 _Noice_ , he thought. _Keep it casual. Just a nice normal chat between colleagues._

Amy's head whipped round suspicipusly quickly, and she nodded.

"Yeah, I'm free. Why?"

Jake swallowed. Here goes.

"Just wanted to talk to you about something. If that's okay?"

Amy made an affirmative sort of noise. 

"Holding Cell 5 in ten minutes?" 

Perfect. It was the most private spot in the precinct. Holding Cell 5 was never used for anything, thanks to its odd, Tetris-block shape, its broken A/C, and the door's tendency to jam at inopportune moments. 

Jake nodded, and ten minutes later there they were, Jake hovering awkwardly as Amy fiddled with the door handle.

"There we go, I don't think that's gonna lock us in. Gina said if you wiggle it all the way up and then down twice, it stays open."

She turned round and Jake couldn't help but grin at the sight of her double-tucked hair.

"What?" his partner asked, immediately on the defensive.

"Nothing, nothing," Jake scrambled to assure her. Probably best not to mention the hair. "I just forgot how weird this place is. Remember when I got shut in here overnight?"

Now it was Amy's turn to smile.

"You were such a mess when we found you that morning."

Jake shrugged.

"I defy you to find any sleep-on-able surface in here."

Amy bit her lip, as if she wanted to laugh, and arched an eyebrow.

"Sleep-on-able?"

Jake rolled his eyes, without any real annoyance.

"You understood me just fine, Detective Pedant-iago."

At that, she did laugh, but she didn't say anything, and soon the two of them were left standing in silence again.

Jake knew that Amy was probably expecting him to break the silence. He'd been the one who wanted to talk, after all. But now they were here, he wasn't quite sure how to say everything that needed saying. The apologies he'd rehearsed in his head seemed to have vanished, leaving him with a frustrating blank.

He closed his eyes, just for a second, and took a deep breath.

"God, I missed you so much, Amy. I knew I would, but I didn't realize how much it would suck."

It wasn't what he'd wanted to say at all, but as soon as he said it, Amy smiled. It was a sad sort of smile, though.

"Yeah. I missed you too, Jake. I really, _really_ missed you."

Her voice was quiet, weak and broken in a way that Jake just knew that Amy would hate, if she heard it played back to her, and for that Jake hated it too. 

"Amy, I just wanted to say, I am so, so -"

But she cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"Nuh-uh."

Jake frowned.

"But I -"

"Nope."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I get it if-"

"Don't wanna hear it."

"But I-"

"What did I just say?"

Jake bit his lip, not sure what else to say. But Amy was looking at him, almost expectantly. He needed to say something.

"Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool. Sure thing. No apologies. I can do that. Sure thing."

Amy sighed.

"Jake, you don't _need_ to apologize because I'm not mad at you."

And yeah, Rosa had said so, but hearing it from Amy was still a huge, unexpected relief. Amy took one look at Jake and rolled her eyes.

"You really thought..." she shook her head fondly as she trailed off. "Jake, how could I possibly be mad at you? I get to have you back. I could _never_ be angry about that."

And now it was Jake's turn to shake his head.

"I still shouldn't have done it that way-"

And now Amy was making that gesture again, but Jake ignored it, because this was important, damnit.

"No, I shouldn't have. And not just the undercover stuff." He paused, just for a second. "I shouldn't have said what I did before I left. It wasn't fair."

Opposite him, Amy almost seemed to have stopped breathing. The air between them felt thick and heavy, and Jake was incredibly aware of the way Amy was looking at him, her expression unreadable.

Finally, almost painfully cautiously, she spoke, quiet and precise.

"Did you mean it?"

And Jake could have laughed, because wasn't it obvious?

"Of course, Ames. Every single word."

And then she was much closer, and God, that smile was beautiful, and her lips were on his and-

 _Oh_.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, before Amy pulled back, her eyes flicking to his. For his part, Jake could only stare back at her, shocked.

"Please tell me I read that right," she blurted out, and the way her eyebrows scrunched nervously was so very _her_ that Jake had to smile.

"Yeah, yeah, you really di-"

And then he couldn't speak, because she was kissing him again.

There was quite a lot of kissing after that. The small part of Jake's brain that never shut up wondered if the rest of the squad had noticed the two detectives' absence. But most of his brain was wholly focused on his wonderful, beautiful, fantastic, _stunningly_ -enthusiastic-about-kissing-him partner.

After a while, though, he pulled back, a strange feeling in his stomach. Not bad, exactly - he was pretty sure nothing could possibly make him feel bad right now - but weird, definitely. Amy must have spotted it, too.

"Everything okay?"

Jake nodded, but it clearly wasn't convincing anyone.

"That's quite the frown for somebody who's okay," Amy probed, before her eyebrows shot up in alarm at some new thought. "Oh God, am I a bad kisser? Did I hurt you? Was-"

Jake cut her off with a a shake of his head.

"I'm sorry, it's not you. You're... hell, Amy, you're the most amazing person I know, and you're good at everything. Kissing too."

Amy blushed and Jake realized what it was.

"I just wonder.... Amy, would you have kissed me, if I hadn't just come back from the dead?"

Because that was it, wasn't it? This was more than Jake could ever have asked for, but what if it was all some kind of messed-up mix of grief and relief? He didn't want that. He wanted Amy to have kissed him because he felt the same way as him - not because he'd messed with her head by "dying" on her.

Now Amy was looking at him as if it should be obvious.

"Well, no. Of course not."

 _Oh_. Jake's disappointment must have shown. He tried to look away, but Amy laid her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eye as she spoke, deadly serious.

"Jake, that's a good thing."

_Wait, what?_

Jake was too surprised to speak as Amy continued.

"Don't get me wrong, Jake. Losing you sucked. Like, vacuum-meets-tornado _sucked_. But it also made me realize some things I'd been ignoring for a really long time. Things about how I felt about you. If you hadn't died, I think we'd still be Santiago and Peralta, goofing it up with another dumb bet. And that would be great, but..."

She trailed off with a grimace, but Jake could fill in the blank.

 _But we'd never have been any more than Santiago and Peralta, goofy, bickering,_ platonic _partners._

He hadn't thought of it like that, and suddenly he knew what it was, why he'd been avoiding Amy. He wasn't afraid she'd be mad. He wasn't afraid she'd blame him. He wasn't even afraid that it would be awkward.

"I didn't want our relationship to have changed," he admitted quietly. 

It seemed ridiculous now, but Amy was looking at him with those eyes, big and nervous, but still so very kind, and he felt his heart do a thing in his chest, all fluttery and strange.

Amy bit her lip before speaking.

"I get it, Jake. I really do. But if our relationship never changes, that means our relationship _never changes._ And... I think I'd kinda like it to. Maybe. If you would also like it to."

He figured he should say something, only now he was holding his breath, for some reason. When had he started doing that?

Instead, Amy paused, just for a moment, before looking him in the eye, speaking quietly and oh-so-carefully.

"Would you like it to?"

And Jake could have laughed, because was that even a question she needed to ask?

"Yes. Absolutely, 100%, definitely, yes."

And then she was grinning, and they were kissing again, and he was spinning her round, or maybe she was spinning him round, and suddenly she was pinning him against the door, and-

"Damnit, did that just lock?"

For a second they just looked at each other, flushed and rumpled. Slowly, Jake stepped aside and reached for the door handle.

He tried it a few times before giving up.

"Yup, we're locked in."

Amy bit her lip. She looked like she was trying not to giggle.

"You got your phone?" 

Jake shook his head ruefully. "Jacket pocket, at my desk. You?"

"Purse," she shrugged. "Guess we're stuck here for a while."

In his defence, Jake tried really hard to look suitably alarmed, and in the end it was Amy who cracked, after a couple of seconds of charged silence.

"I guess making out again would kill some time?"

Her tone was innocent, but the look she was shooting him was practically criminal. Well, two could play at that game.

"Why not?" he managed to shrug, with a forced nonchalance, "Since it looks like I'm here for the long haul, anyway..."

Then Amy smiled, a real smile this time, without the flirty eyes, and for a second it was like Jake could read her mind.

_Here for the long haul. I'm here for the long haul._

He grinned back, and the two of them stayed like that, just for a moment, smiling like idiots, locked in the weirdly-shaped, slightly-too-warm interrogation room.

 _It's a weird-ass place to finally feel at home_ , he thought for a second, glancing at the chipped paint on the walls and the bulky, bolted-down interrogation table.

But then he looked back at his partner, all happy and beautiful and _perfect_ , and maybe it wasn't so strange, after all.

_Amy's here. Of course I'm home._

She met his star-struck gaze, and raised an eyebrow teasingly. 

"We good?"

Jake chuckled as he leant in to kiss her.

"Oh, we are very, _very_ good."

She giggled, just slightly, as their lips touched, and he could smell her shampoo, just like he could feel her hand on his back, gentle but firm, anchoring him to her, and he realized he'd been wrong.

 _Screw just "good", we are_ perfect _._

It was the last coherent thought he would have for quite some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go, some happy Peraltiago romance, finally! Gotta love those nerds :)
> 
> I really hope you've enjoyed this series - I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you to all of you who left comments and kudos (I love you all, you are excellent people), and lots of love to all of you more generally, wherever you all are.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! This is quite self-indulgent as fics go, but I very much enjoyed writing it, so I hope some of you get a kick out of it too. It's my first ever 5 + 1 fic, and also a bit angstier than a lot of my other stuff, which generally skews towards AU and humour, so let me know if it works (I am a sucker for nice comments). Also, as per usual, my work is neither beta-ed nor Americanised (Americanized? Reverse-Britpicked?) so please do let me know if there's anything egregiously weird-sounding or typo-ey going on, and I shall endeavour to change it up :)


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